


Holding Out For a Hero

by lachatblanche



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-07-14 06:21:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7157093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lachatblanche/pseuds/lachatblanche
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time that Logan hears about the psionic vigilante who has been taking out criminals in downtown New York, he knows immediately who the idiot underneath the mask and the blue and yellow jumpsuit is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Holding Out For a Hero

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [XavierineFest2016](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/XavierineFest2016) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> Superhero AU. One or both of them are superheroes.

The first time that Logan hears about the psionic vigilante who has been taking out criminals in downtown New York, he knows immediately who the idiot underneath the mask and the blue and yellow jumpsuit is.

‘God-fucking-dammit, Chuck,’ he sighs, putting down his newspaper to rub at his face in irritation.

The vigilante is Charles fucking Xavier. Of course it is. And he knows it’s Charles because it _is_ Charles. There’s no one else who would be dumb enough – who would be _naïve_ enough – to take on the combined forced of the criminal underworld all by themselves while wearing some goddamn stupid mask like he thinks he’s the fucking Batman.

There’s no one else who would choose a dumbass superhero name like ‘X-Man’ except for Charles goddamn Xavier either.

Sighing, Logan reaches for the phone and begins dialling. 

‘Charles Xavier’s phone, how can I help you,’ a voice answers and Logan swallows a growl at the sound.

‘Give the damn phone to Charles, Hank,’ he says, rolling his eyes with impatience when Hank begins to stutter and stammer excuses. ‘On second thought,’ Logan mutters, rising from the sofa, ‘Tell him I’ll be round there in twenty minutes. That should be enough time for him to get himself home and out of that damn stupid jumpsuit.’

‘What—’ Hank stammers unconvincingly, but Logan has already slammed the phone down and grabbed his jacket, on his way out of the door.

Twenty minutes later, he is in Westchester, standing outside the Xavier mansion and banging his fist on the door.

‘Open up, Chuck, he growls. ‘I’ve got a bone to pick with you.’

He has only a minute to wait before the door opens.

‘I’m always happy to deal with your bones, Logan,’ Charles says sweetly, leaning indolently against the doorframe. ‘All you have to do is ask.’

‘Not this time,’ Logan says grimly, before shoving his way through the door.

Charles raises an eyebrow as he pushes past, but gamely steps back and then shuts the door behind him. ‘So tell me,’ he says pleasantly, leading Logan through the hall and into the main house. ‘What can I do for you on this lovely morning?’

‘I’ll tell you what you can do,’ Logan says bluntly. ‘You can burn that damn costume of yours and start spending your nights asleep in bed instead of jumping across rooftops. You get me?’

Charles blinks. ‘Oh,’ he says. And then promptly shuts his mouth.

‘Yeah,’ Logan says dryly. ‘ _Oh._ ’

‘So … you know about that,’ Charles says, chewing on his lip and studiously eyeing the floor.

‘About the asshole in the bright yellow jumpsuit taking down criminals?’ Logan raises an eyebrow. ‘Yeah. I know about it.’

‘It’s _blue_ and yellow,’ Charles protests, pouting at the slandering of his costume. ‘More blue than yellow, really. There’s only a little bit of yellow. A _smidgen_ of yellow.’ He glares at the sceptical expression on Logan’s face. ‘It’s _tasteful_ , that’s what it is, and that’s all I have to say about it.’

Logan sighs. ‘I don’t actually give a damn about your ugly-ass uniform, Chuck,’ he says, shaking his head. ‘What I care about is _you_ being out _there_ , putting yourself in danger.’

Charles rolls his eyes without slowing down his purposeful stride in the direction of the basement. ‘You worry too much,’ he says carelessly, flapping his hand vaguely in Logan’s direction. 

‘I think I worry just about enough,’ Logan grunts.

Charles snorts. ‘Flattered as I am to know that you care, darling, your anxiety on my behalf is _completely_ unnecessary – not to mention unwanted.’ He pauses then, and turns to Logan with a more kindly expression, reaching out to grasp his arm. ‘You need to relax, Logan. I know what I’m doing.’

‘Yeah, somehow I don’t believe that,’ Logan says darkly, pulling away from Charles’s distracting touch and pushing forwards. ‘The fact that you’re going out into the streets with fuck-all training and zero backup pretty much sinks the idea that you know what you’re doing, Chuck.’

‘I train,’ Charles says defensively, hurrying forward so that he is in the lead, only to come to a stop before a mostly bare wall. ‘And I’m _hardly_ without backup, Logan.’ He presses a concealed button almost absent-mindedly, waiting as a keypad emerges seemingly from nowhere, and then taps in a long sequence of digits, after which he proceeds to go through a retinal scan, a vocal scan, and – (‘there’s _no_ rectal scan, thank you, Logan, and no, I really don’t think we’re missing a trick there’) – it’s only after these have been completed that the doors open, leading the two of them into Charles’s lair. ‘See,’ Charles says brightly as they step inside. ‘I have Hank!’

Logan turns to look at where skinny, bespectacled Hank is sitting hunched in front of a dozen TV and computer screens, and scowls when the kid startles at the sight of them, giving them a weak smile and an even weaker wave when he finally manages to gain control of his long, lanky limbs. Somehow, Logan does not find the fact that _this_ is Charles’s sole form of backup to be particularly reassuring.

‘McCoy ain’t no kind of backup,’ he says bluntly, turning to face Charles and ignoring the way that Hank shrinks down in his seat. ‘He’s a glorified lab geek, Charles. He’s no use to you out in the field.’

‘Nonsense,’ Charles says crisply, dismissing Logan’s concerns with an impatient wave before turning an affectionate smile on Hank. ‘Hank here is terrific backup – don’t listen to him, Hank, you’re splendid, I couldn’t do without you.’

Hank immediately perks back up again.

Logan rolls his eyes. ‘And _you’re_ the person taking on the bad guys,’ he mutters, shaking his head. ‘What do you do, hand them a bunch of flowers and get them to sing _kumbaya_?’

Charles’s lips twitch. ‘Careful, Logan,’ he says archly. ‘Or else I may actually start taking offence.’

‘You’re meant to,’ Logan growls. ‘Christ, it’s a wonder you catch anyone.’

‘Hey,’ Charles glares at him. ‘I’ll have you know that X-Man has a perfect record. I’ve caught every single criminal that I’ve gone up against!’

‘Well – except for Magneto,’ Hank adds helpfully as he types in a long series of codes on his keyboard.

Charles winces.

Logan raises an eyebrow. ‘That so?’ he says, giving Charles a pointed look.

Charles scowls at Hank, who remains oblivious, before turning back to Logan. ‘That’s different,’ he says huffily. ‘Magneto is a super-villain and my arch-nemesis. You’re not actually _supposed_ to catch those.’

‘Oh yeah?’ Logan challenges. ‘Says who?’

Charles blinks. ‘Well – everyone. Don’t they?’ He turns helplessly to Hank.

‘Statistics show that super-villains remain outside of jail in 97.68% of all cases,’ Hank responds promptly, earning him a grateful, beaming smile from Charles.

‘ _What_ other cases?’ Logan demands. He narrows his eyes at Hank. ‘Are you getting your stats from fucking _comic books_ , Four-Eyes?’

Hank goes bright red and starts to sputter something but Logan has already turned his focus back on Charles. 

‘And I suppose your failure to catch Magneto has got nothing to do with the fact that you’ve got a boner for melodramatic assholes in capes, huh?’ he accuses, folding his arms over his broad chest.

Charles goes slightly pink. ‘That was _one time_ ,’ he says haughtily, tipping his chin up, trying to hide the reddening of his cheeks. ‘And besides, _you’re_ just a plain asshole and I still have a boner for _you_ , don’t I?’

Logan rolls his eyes. ‘We’re getting away from the point,’ he says.

‘And what point would that be?’

‘The _point_ being that I’m not crazy about the idea of you chasing after criminals who would sooner put a bullet in your head than be stuck in jail!’ Logan pinches the bridge of his nose, breathing heavily. When he next speaks, his voice is gruff. ‘I’m _worried_ about you, Chuck. I don’t want you getting hurt.’

‘I _won’t_ get hurt,’ Charles retorts, sounding ever so slightly exasperated. ‘I appreciate your concern, Logan, I really do, but frankly what I do with my own time isn’t any of your business.’

Logan scowls at him. He knows Charles is right: he owes Logan nothing, and what he does with his life is his own concern. It still doesn’t stop the blunt rejoinder from making something in Logan’s chest hurt, however.

Charles seems to realise this, because his expression softens. ‘Look,’ he says, his tone much gentler. ‘I understand why you are worried, but you really don’t need to be. I’m a _telepath_. I’m more powerful than virtually every single person out there, Logan. Believe me when I say that I can deal with anything that comes at me.’

‘That’s what I’m worried about,’ Logan sighs, shaking his head. ‘You’re getting complacent, Chuck.’

‘I’m not complacent,’ Charles huffs. ‘I’m being _realistic_.’

‘You’re being a pain in my ass, is what you’re being.’ Logan mutters. He sighs. ‘You should at least get someone else out there with you, someone to watch your back in case things go south.’

‘Why?’ Charles shoots back. ‘Are you volunteering?’

Logan blinks, surprised by the idea – he’s always known that a person like him has no business being a superhero – but by the time it takes him to summon up a response, Charles has already shaken his head. 

‘Never mind,’ he says. ‘Honestly, Logan, I’m fine as I am. All I need is Hank. There’s really no need to worry.’

Logan opens his mouth to protest but at that moment an alarm goes off, with a siren blaring loudly and red lights flashing overhead.

‘Christ, Chuck, don’t the neighbours hear this?’ Logan asks, wincing.

‘The walls are soundproofed,’ Charles said cheerily, seeming not at all concerned by the fact that the alarm is practically making Logan’s super sensitive ear-drums bleed. He turns to Hank. ‘What have we got, Hank?’

‘Bank robbery in progress,’ Hank announces smoothly, and when Logan looks over he can see that the little bastard has earplugs fitted in both ears. ‘I’ve inputted the location into the jet’s navigation system and I’ll brief you on the way.’

‘Excellent.’ Charles smiles at him and then turns to Logan. ‘I have to go,’ he says, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He’s clearly raring to go, and all at once Logan can see just how much he enjoys doing what he’s doing. ‘If you really want to continue with this talk then perhaps you could wait? I shouldn’t be too long, I hope.’

‘Yeah,’ Logan sighs. ‘I’ll wait. You … go do your thing, Chuck.’

Charles flashes him a bright smile before he takes off speedily towards the hangar where the stealth jet is waiting.

Logan watches him, hoping fervently that Charles’s dumb blue and yellow suit is more high-tech than it looks. He knows how bank robberies go down – there’s every chance that things could turn violent, and the last thing he wants is for Charles to catch a stray bullet.

Behind him, Hank clears his throat.

‘You know,’ he says cautiously as Logan keeps his eyes fixed on the doorway that Charles just exited through. ‘There _is_ another uniform waiting on board, if you’re interested.’

Logan pauses, his heart rate suddenly picking up, but then he sighs and shakes his head. ‘Even if I were, I don’t think that Chuck’s duds would fit me, bub,’ he says almost regretfully.

Hank meets his eyes and slowly raises an eyebrow. ‘Who says they’re _his_?’ he murmurs, before turning around and directing his eyes at the screen. 

Logan stares at his back for a whole minute, his expression blank. Then, swearing under his breath about _presumptuous little shits_ , he turns and pushes through the door, speeding towards the jet.

Who knows, he thinks as he sees Charles – now in mask and uniform – turn in surprise at the sound of his footsteps and subsequently let forth a happy, beaming smile. Being a superhero might be his kind of gig after all.


End file.
